


Mine Would Be You.

by EtCorSolus



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Good at Feelings, Getting Back Together, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Major Character Injury, Recovery, but still, its barely there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtCorSolus/pseuds/EtCorSolus
Summary: "What's the one regret you can't work through? You got it, baby, mine would be you." - Mine Would Be You - Blake Shelton
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	1. What's Your Worst Hangover?

**Author's Note:**

> A very special thank you to my wonderful beta, [silverfoxflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower), who literally saved this fic on top of helping me make it so much better. I almost gave up on it because it just wasn't coming across the way I wanted it to and she helped me figure out why. So! You! My dear, nothing compares to you. <3
> 
> This fic is done and I will be posting a chapter every other day until they're all up.

None of them are allowed to go into Eskel’s ICU room when he first gets out of surgery; and when a nurse finally comes to take them to him she says, “Immediate family only, until he's more stable we need to limit his visitors.”

Lambert and Vivienne follow the nurse down the hall and Geralt tries to stop his hands from shaking as he sinks back into his seat. 

There isn’t a clock in the waiting room, which he’s too distraught to appreciate but does notice, and his phone dies after a couple of hours so his concept of time gets distorted. He paces until his legs are numb and when he sits he jerks himself awake every time he nods off. Lambert turns up every few hours, sits with him quietly for a short while each time before going back to his mother where she sits at Eskel’s bedside. Geralt is only vaguely aware of time passing, he knows Lambert left the hospital at some point to take Vivienne home. He remembers Lambert coming back and leaving again after what must've been several hours, returning with Vivienne again. He remembers Lambert bringing food to him in the waiting room, not pushing him to eat but also not leaving until he has. At some point he comes in and tells Geralt softly that he needs to go home, to take shower and sleep in a real bed. It takes some time, but Lambert can out stubborn anyone, so he eventually manages to coax Geralt out of the hospital and into the passenger seat of Lambert's car. Geralt gets dropped off in front of his and Eskel's apartment building with a promise to return the following morning to take him back for his own vehicle.

Geralt can’t stop going over the night of the accident in his head. Eskel made him dinner to celebrate Geralt completing his doctorate. Geralt mentioned, off-handedly, that once he found a position teaching they could buy Eskel a car so he wasn’t riding his bike everywhere. It was a suggestion Geralt couldn’t help but make, as sexy as Eskel looked on that motorcycle, it made Geralt unspeakably anxious. They took the car if they were both going somewhere, occasionally Geralt would climb onto the big black bike for a weekend ride, but Eskel rode his bike anywhere he went alone. As far south as they live, there’s no real winter to speak of, so Geralt doesn’t even get the relief of Eskel parking the bike through the cold season. Eskel was firmly against replacing the motorcycle and would shut Geralt down everytime he brought it up. It didn’t matter how much Geralt insisted that he didn’t want Eskel to  _ get rid _ of the bike, that he knew how much Eskel loved it and wouldn't ask him to do that. He just wished he’d ride it a little less often. The conversation devolved quickly into an argument, as it usually did, that ended with Eskel snatching his keys and his riding jacket and storming out the door. An hour later, Geralt got a phone call from Lambert. He keeps returning to the same thought, circling his head over and over.  _ I didn’t tell him that I love him before he left. _

It takes five days for Eskel to wake up. Geralt is distracted at work all afternoon after Lambert calls to tell him. The bookstore is supposed to be open for a few more hours and, after being closed for so many days in a row, he could use the business. He's out the door as early as he can manage and making his way to the hospital. The nurse at the desk tells him that Eskel has made an approved visitor's list and asks for his driver's license. Geralt has trouble processing it when she tells him.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Rivia, but you're not listed.”

“E-excuse me?” he asks, reeling just a little. “Are you sure? There must be some mistake, I-I'm his boyfriend.”

“I'm sure, hun,” she says with an apologetic frown. Geralt can't form words for her and makes his way outside to drop on the curb. When he gathers himself enough he calls Lambert. Eskel tells his younger brother everything.

“ _ 'Lo?” _

“Lambert.”

“ _ Gotta take this, Esk, I'll be right back,” _ Geralt's heart skips at the knowledge that Eskel is still awake.  _ “Geralt. I'm sorry, I've been trying to talk him out of this stupid shit all day. He won't listen to me, just turns away and ignores me every time I so much as mention the store-” _

“Talk him out of what, Lambert? Why am I not on the list?”

“ _ I'm sorry, Geralt... He said he doesn't want to see you.”  _ Lambert's voice is gentle and Geralt would spare a moment to appreciate that Lambert was trying to be gentle with him if he could breathe.  _ “I'm gonna get him to come around, I promise, just- just give me some time, okay? A day or two and you'll be up here,”  _ Lambert encourages and Geralt manages to grunt an acknowledgment. 

The argument takes on a new lens. Because until now Geralt had been so worried about Eskel, about apologizing, that he hadn’t stopped to think about what this meant for Eskel.  _ Selfish. _ Would Eskel even be  _ able _ to ride anymore? Would he want to? Geralt wishes he wouldn’t and is immediately disgusted with himself.  _ Selfish. _

It takes an hour for him to get himself under control enough to get up off the sidewalk and go to his car. It takes half an hour for him to feel like he's safe to drive home. It takes him roughly four hours to fall into a semblance of sleep that night.

It takes three days for Eskel’s phone to be charged and powered on, and another four for Geralt to get a response to the slew of text messages and voicemails he’s left him, trying to apologize. He gets a single message that is so distant he can barely believe it came from Eskel.

_ I need to take a step back from our relationship, so I can focus on recovering, and I need to not see you while I do. _

Geralt gives Eskel two weeks, sends him one text message each day to ask how he’s doing. When he finally receives a response, it’s for Eskel to ask Geralt to stop. It takes another two weeks of Lambert badgering his older brother and reporting back to Geralt his lack of success at changing his mind before Geralt tells Lambert to stop. A few weeks later, when the lease on the apartment he and Eskel shared was about to end he asked Lambert what Eskel wanted him to do. Lambert came back to him the next day with sad eyes and said to do whatever he wanted with the place.

It takes four months of nothing for Geralt to sell the small bookstore he worked in most of his life. He moves to a little town two hours north to take a position teaching a Literature course at the community college.

Geralt's first night in his new apartment, is Eskel's first night cleared to return home.


	2. Your Best Night Yet?

Geralt comes up with a number of reasons as to why he moves back to his hometown. It’s where he grew up, where he went to school, where his few friends live; but truthfully when the idea first comes to him he’s not thinking of any of those things. He’s sitting in his one bedroom apartment staring out the window. He can see the building he teaches in; in fact, he can see most of the little town. He’s been here just shy of five months and he hasn’t made any friends, never was very good at it. The other professors are all in their sixties to his thirty six so he’s not exactly jumping to spend time with them outside of work. Geralt’s problem is that he doesn’t like meeting new people, and he doesn’t like being alone. He misses the easy interaction he has with his friends, his family, he misses having someone to share his space with. ( _ That he’s actually missing  _ one _ person in particular, is irrelevant. _ ) The one clear thought in his head makes him feel a little like a child, reaching out for comfort.  _ I want to go  _ home,  _ and home is not here. _

He makes his calls the following morning and inside a week has secured a position as an assistant teaching professor at the university. He drives out for a weekend to look at some homes, makes an offer on one before he drives back. Closing takes a few weeks but then Geralt is spending the weekend with hired help to toss most of his old furniture and load the small moving truck he rented with the rest. The house is a single story ranch, two bedrooms with an otherwise open floor plan. He eats pizza, sitting on the kitchen floor, the first night and sleeps on an air mattress.

# # #

Eskel wakes with a startled gasp in sweat soaked sheets and grimaces at the throb in his spine. The nearly empty bottle of vodka on his bedside table is snatched up and drained before Eskel lumbers up out of bed. Mornings are the most difficult for him. He's always stiff and sore, but today he feels like he laid the bike down a week ago, not a year. He showers and shaves by touch, won't replace the mirror he broke in his bathroom. Two of his prescription painkillers and half a pint of cheap vodka later, Eskel's pain level is manageable. He leaves his phone in the living room at night, because the last time his mother called while he was drinking himself into a stupor he made her cry and he hates himself for it, but he checks it every morning and today is no different. Except in the small way that it is. He has a text message from his brother.

_ Geralt is in town. _

Eskel sets the phone back down, snatches up the bottle he started this morning and goes back to bed.

# # #

The hug from Lambert is only mildly surprising. They're friends, talked a few times a week, but Lambert didn't tend towards  _ tactile _ with Geralt. He's also mildly surprised to find himself grinning and squeezing Lambert in return, to find that he  _ missed _ the prickly shit.

“Man, never thought I'd say it, but it's good to see your face,” Lambert jokes and Geralt slugs him on the shoulder for his cheek. “How long you here for?” he questions as they sit down at a table in the corner of the cafe.

“For good, got the new position I told you about. At the university here. I'll be teaching there starting this fall. I bought a house about ten minutes away. Just got rid of a bunch of furniture and ordered new, gotta meet the delivery truck there soon, actually.”

“Is that a hint?” 

Geralt laughs. “It really wasn't but your help would be appreciated,” he says.

“Throw in a case of beer and you got it.” They eat and talk about inconsequential things for a short time until, after a longer silence, Lambert says quietly, “You can ask.”

Geralt can't lift his eyes from the table. It was an easier statement to brush off over the phone. Geralt hasn't let himself think of him in a year. It's been harder to push the thoughts away today, driving through the city where he fell in love. The park left him with a flash of Eskel, booming laugh carrying across the wide field, as he tried to teach Geralt about soccer and Geralt missed kicking the ball with so much force he landed on his ass. The local market store that took over the space of the bookshop when Geralt sold it reminds him of the first time he saw those sun-stone eyes over a wide, warm smile. He thinks that, the memory of that first smile and the stutter in his chest, is what makes him take a deep breath and meet Lambert's eyes.

“How is he?” Geralt murmurs.

“Not great...” Lambert sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “I go over there a few times a week, make him an actual meal and make him do his physical therapy, try to bully him out of the house. He can walk pretty well now, but he still has a lot of pain from the nerve damage. He doesn't do much of anything though... Just sits around his place and reads. Goes out as little as he can so he eats a lot of delivery and frozen dinners,” Lambert drops his eyes to the table. “Been drinkin' a lot, too.”

“Did he ever-” Geralt stops, knows if he asks Lambert will answer and he's not sure he's ready for that answer either way, but Lambert doesn't make him finish his question.

“He wouldn’t tell me why. Just told me to drop it, quit asking him about you. Got into a fight about it, actually, a couple months back. He, uh, he shouted at me and then all but shoved me out and locked the door, ignored my calls for about a week.” Normally, Geralt knows Lambert wouldn't share this much. He wouldn't air his brother's business to any ex-boyfriend that came around, but he knows. He knows about the plans Geralt made, the trip he had to cancel. The box that lives in the back of his top drawer. “I, uh-don't be pissed at me, okay?- but I told him you were in town.”

“What?”  _ Too loud. _ Geralt takes a deep breath. “Why did you tell him?” Lambert stutters out increasingly implausible reasons for several minutes with Geralt badgering him for the truth until his shoulders hunch and his voice wavers just enough for Geralt to notice it.

“Because he's miserable, okay. And I know my brother well enough to guess at his self deprecating reasoning for cutting you out and I know that fixing things with you won't fix everything he's dealing with but... I just want my brother back,” Lambert whispers with a helpless little shrug. 

It takes Geralt a moment to recognize what he's feeling because he can count on one hand the number of times he was  _ actually  _ angry at Eskel. He is, though, a little angry with him now. Eskel's mother and father had separated for a time when Eskel was four, he told Geralt that the only reason he even knew about it is because his father seemed adamantly sure that Lambert was not his son. Eskel's father was a mean drunk and Lambert became his favorite target at a young age. Lambert was seven when Vivienne was finally able to leave the man and take her boys with her. Lambert was glued to Eskel from the start, always wanting to be around his big brother, and Eskel never told him no. 

For Eskel to ignore what he felt was his responsibility to look out for his brother, Geralt knew there had to be something very wrong, that he was drinking only made it worse. Eskel was always the designated driver by choice. He'd drink one beer at the beginning of the night if they drove anywhere. Even when they stayed in, Geralt rarely saw him drink more than one beer and never more than two.

“I don't know what you want me to do, Lambert...” Geralt says softly. “I haven't even spoken to him since then and from what you've told me, he doesn't want to see me.”

“He does! I know he wants to see you, he just won't admit it, he won't even look at it.”

“Lambert, you don't actually  _ know _ that and-”

“He talks in his sleep.” 

Geralt stops short, a little bewildered at the abrupt change of subject, and nods. He knows Eskel talks in his sleep, used to tease him for it just to see him flush.

“And..?”

“He talks about you.”

# # #

_ It may seem strange, but Geralt’s come to love Monday mornings. He only opens the store for a few hours in the afternoon and Eskel is always off work at the garage. Monday mornings are sleeping in and lazy kisses and just  _ existing _ together and it is Geralt’s favorite thing. Eskel is curled around his back, still sleeping deeply, and mumbling under his breath. _

_ “You can’t do that, Lamb,” he mutters and Geralt smiles and stays very still. “Suspension’s going to be off and then…” Geralt can’t understand the rest of what Eskel says, only catches a few words at a time for the next several minutes and then he’s laughing under his breath and Eskel trails off entirely. He shifts around for a few minutes and then his arms tighten around Geralt’s middle and his breathing changes. Geralt lays a hand over Eskel’s where it’s pressed over his heart. “Hm. Good morning,” Eskel rumbles. _

_ “Good morning, nice dreams?” Geralt asks and tries to keep the humor out of his voice. He fails miserably and Eskel groans and pushes his face into Geralt’s hair. _

_ “Damn it, what did I say this time?”  _

_ Geralt turns over in Eskel’s arms, pushes fingers up through his dark hair just to see him tilt his head back into it like a cat. _

_ “It’s incredible to me that you can still argue with your brother about that bike in your sleep,” he grins. Eskel’s face is a lovely shade of red and he rolls his eyes. _

_ “Yeah, well, apparently my dream version of him is just as bullheaded as the real thing,” he mutters, almost defensive, and then proceeds to thoroughly distract Geralt. “Quit talking about my brother and come here.” _

_ When they fall back into the sheets an hour later, sweaty and out of breath, Geralt feels Eskel’s eyes on him. They’ve been living together for a few months now and Eskel had been wary of moving in when they did. He’d been worried they were rushing, worried Geralt would hate living with him; he always worried about something. _

_ “It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Eskel asks quietly after a few moments. _

_ “What part of that performance would make you think it bothers me?” _

_ “No, not  _ that _ ,” Geralt can  _ hear _ Eskel’s eye roll, “the sleep talking thing. Does it bother you?”  _

_ Geralt rolls over onto Eskel’s chest and burrows his nose into the hinge of his jaw, presses a kiss there. _

_ “Nope. I think it’s cute, babe,” he says as he raises his head and gives Eskel a cheeky grin. Eskel blushes again and Geralt can’t help but lean down to kiss his full lips and they don’t make it out of bed for a while that particular Monday morning. _

# # # 

Geralt doesn't know what he's doing. He has absolutely no idea how Eskel can withstand Lambert's badgering for as long as he does. It only takes two days for Lambert to get Geralt to agree to go see Eskel and a week to get him to actually  _ go. _ He's circled the block three times trying to figure out what he's even going to  _ say _ to the man that shut him out of his life when Geralt most wanted to stay. Wouldn't even see him.

Geralt chickens out. He'll deal with Lambert later.

Lambert, who was  _ not  _ pleased with Geralt's inability to follow through, decided that he would drive Geralt there and go in with him to buffer the blow a little bit. Geralt's hands are shaking and he squeezes them together in his lap to hide it. Lambert pulls his car over in front of the house and shuts it off before he glances over at Geralt.

“Ready?”

“No.”

“Good, let's go,” Lambert says and Geralt forces himself to get out of the car. It takes him a moment to realize that Lambert's door didn't open, and then to register the car's engine firing back up. He turns around to see Lambert waggling his fingers at him from the driver's seat as he drives away.

“Fuck.” Geralt drags his palms down his face. “ _ Fuck. _ ”

He glances up at the little house and catches the twitch of the blinds.  _ Busted. _ Several deep breaths later, he goes up to the door. He knocks and waits, Lambert said Eskel moved slower on his bad days, but after several minutes of nothing he knocks again. He waits. When he raises his hand to knock a third time he pauses and instead opens his palm and presses it flat to the wood.

“I know you're here. Lambert ratted you out,” he calls and catches the little shuffle of sound he'd barely heard again. “I also know you're pretty stubborn but I'm gonna remind you that it's really not  _ me  _ you have to outlast, it's your brother. Even if I leave right now, you and I both know he won't stop until we have a conversation.” Still nothing. Geralt really hates to use guilt with Eskel but now that he's here he finds himself desperate for answers. “I figure you owe me a few answers, at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, the response on chapter one was freaking amazing and I am still blushing over it. Thank you all for reading and of course a special thank you to my lovely beta silverfoxflower!
> 
> You can come yell at me on [tumblr](https://etcorsolus.tumblr.com/), or discord under the same name. Questions, comments, prompts, or insensible key smashes are accepted <3


	3. Your Ninety Proof?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my next few days got massively busy overnight. I have a funeral, a wedding, and two of my kids soccer games over the next two days. I decided to go ahead and post chapter 3 tonight because I will have absolutely no time to do it tomorrow. 
> 
> Have a chapter a day early, chapter 4 will be up Sunday morning!

Eskel is not prepared for this. He didn't sleep well last night, his pain level today is through the roof. His prescription is almost gone, and it's a narcotic which means he has to go and refill it  _ himself _ instead of just asking Lambert to pick it up for him. So Eskel is anxious and tired and in pain and a little bit drunk and he  _ is not prepared for this. _

“I figure you owe me a few answers, at least.” That voice makes Eskel weak in the knees after a year without it. Eskel drops his forehead to the door and reaches out blindly for his hooded jacket where it hangs by the front door. He slips it on, zips it up and yanks the hood over his head.

# # #

The doorknob turns and Geralt holds his breath as the door is slowly pulled open to reveal Eskel. He's thinner than Geralt remembers. He has his face angled down, tucked into the hood he has pulled over his longer hair, and he barely glances at Geralt before his eyes are glued to the floor.

“Can I come in?” he asks and gets a jerky nod and Eskel steps back and to the side. He closes the door behind Geralt and then leads Geralt into a small living area. The curtains are drawn, a single lamp lights the space from its place beside a big arm chair with a book open face down to save the page over the arm. There's a couch against the wall and a little coffee table with several empty beer cans and two tall bottles, also empty. The room is messy in a way Eskel had never let their place get. The trash is nearly overflowing, there's empty prescription bottles and beer cans on most of the flat surfaces in the room and Eskel's books are in haphazard piles around the room. When he turns to Eskel, he's not sure what he was going to say, he comes up short. Eskel is hunched in on himself, features drawn and his whole body tense. He still won't look at Geralt.

“Lambert said you were in town,” Eskel rumbles to the floor, “figured I'd be the last person you'd want to see.”

Geralt is, rather abruptly, angry.

“If you recall,” he grits, “I wasn't the one to make that decision last year.” Geralt doesn't miss the flash of hurt. “You just-” he huffs, rakes at the white strands of his hair that have fallen free of the loose bun he'd tied it all back in, turns away because he can barely keep his legs under him being this close to Eskel after so long. He hears the shuffle of Eskel's feet as he shifts his weight, he still has his right side angled away from Geralt when he turns back. “You know, I sat in the waiting room for three days, I slept in there because they wouldn't let in anyone but immediate family. Lambert talked me into going home and getting some actual sleep, made sure I ate something other than vending machine food. Then he called me, said you were awake and I was so fucking relieved.”

Geralt stops and squeezes his eyes shut. He was incredibly wrong when he thought he'd make it through this with his composure. Eskel doesn't say anything and he still  _ won't look _ and Geralt is just angry enough to want to hurt Eskel's feelings if he can.

“All day after Lambert said you'd woken up, I thought about what I would say. I wanted to apologize for being such an ass that night, to tell you how relieved I was that you were alive. I just wanted to  _ see _ you. Six years and I got a fucking text message!” He doesn't realize he's shouting until Eskel draws back a little bit. Geralt makes himself stop and take two deliberate breaths. "You had  _ your brother _ tell me you weren't planning on coming back to  _ our  _ home. I would've given you everything I could, and you wouldn't even let me in the door.”

It becomes  _ too much _ to stand across from Eskel in his darkened living room. Geralt turns away and stalks out the front door without looking back to see if he was followed. He doesn't pause to look for Lambert's car or get his phone out and call him. He walks halfway across town to get home and is so tired by the time he gets there that he collapses on his couch and falls promptly asleep.

# # #

_ Lambert is the one who tells him about the little shop. Eskel has seen the place before, of course, and thought about going in every time he did but he’d always been busy doing something else. The little bell over the door  _ dings _ merrily at his entrance and a muffled voice floats through the stacks to greet him. _

_ “Be with you in a moment, feel free to look around.”  _

_ “No rush,” he calls back. Eskel meanders through the stacks and basks in the smell of paper and ink and bindings. He’s always loved books, could spend hours in any bookstore in the country and not get bored. His brother was absolutely correct when he told Eskel this place was a gold mine, though, and Eskel is able to find three books he’s had on his list for a while. The man behind the counter is tall and nearly as broad as Eskel himself. His hair, starshine white, is pulled back and tied into a messy bun with flyaway strands tickling the collar of his dark blue button up shirt. Eyes like emerald’s raise to meet Eskel’s and he finds himself a little breathless. _

_ “Find what you were looking for?” he asks. _

_ “Uh, yeah, yeah. Your selection is incredible,” Eskel comments as he places the books on the counter. His eyes catch on two small flags propped up in a bucket of pens for signing receipts, one striped with pink, purple, and blue and the other a vibrant rainbow. “I’ll be back soon for a few others I saw on the shelves.” _

_ “Glad to hear it, if there’s anything you’re looking for that you can’t find just let me know and I can see about ordering it for you,” he pauses and plucks a business card from the holder by the register. “That’s the store phone number, but if it’s after hours just send the request to the email and I’ll see it.” _

_ “Thanks… Geralt,” Eskel reads from the card and flashes a smile. “I’m Eskel.”  _

_ “You must be Lambert’s older brother then.” There’s a spark of recognition in Geralt’s green eyes, a mischievous quirk to his lips. He looks a little bit like he’s in on some joke that Eskel isn’t aware of. _

_ “Oh, uh, yeah…” _

_ “Sorry, he’s here a lot and we get to talking. He’s told me about you,” Geralt shrugs and Eskel shakes his head. _

_ “No, it’s cool, really, just surprised me a little,” Eskel shrugs and then flashes a sly grin. "So, did he threaten you to keep your mouth shut too?" _

_ "Yeah," Geralt laughs, "first couple times he came in, he didn't buy anything but he asked me about some books. After a few more visits he finally dropped the Inheritance saga box set on the counter and said if I told anyone he'd bought them he was gonna put diesel fuel in my car." _

_ "He’s very serious about keeping his love for ‘ _ nerdy fantasy shit’ _ a secret. I wouldn't test him, he might actually do it," Eskel says, half-serious, and enjoys the blooming warmth Geralt's smile brings. _

_ Eskel comes back twice a week for a month and spends entirely too much money at the quaint little store. On a positive note, he does manage to complete a few sets of books he’s been looking for.  _

_ And when he finally bucks up the courage to ask, he even gets a date.  _

# # #

Eskel can’t get enough air into his lungs and it’s making him dizzy, he hunkers down despite the way his body protests the position. Lambert must've been watching for Geralt to leave because he comes in while Eskel is bent over his knees on his couch gasping and trembling. He immediately comes to kneel in front of Eskel on the floor to talk him down. It takes several minutes for Eskel to catch his breath properly and when he does he jerks away from Lambert to glare at him.

“Why would you bring him here?” he growls and shoves to his feet to pace. “What the  _ fuck  _ did you think you were doing? I've told you over and over again to leave it alone!” He's shouting now but he can't make himself stop, even when his little brother cowers away from him just a bit. “Get out.”

“Eskel, please, just list-”

“Get out of my house, Lambert!” He roars and storms away to lock himself in his room. The front door closing and the finality of the sound makes him flinch. He can't drink enough to forget the look on Geralt's face or the hurt in his brother's eyes before he passes out.

He doesn't answer his phone; so, he isn't shocked when his mother shows up after two days of radio silence to his brother. He opens the door before she can knock, angles his face back into his hoodie as he follows her into his sad little mess of a living room. He sits beside her on his beat up couch with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. His chest is tight.

“Eskel,” she says, her voice gentle but commanding. He sighs and slowly turns to meet his mother's eyes. More than a year later and he still can't stop himself from leaning away from her left hand when she raises it to ghost against his ruined skin. “There's my boy,” she smiles and Eskel has always been weak in the face of his mother's unconditional love. She catches him around his shoulders, pulls his face to her neck and holds him while he shakes and tells her over and over that he's sorry.

# # #

Lambert apologizes and Geralt tells him that it's not really his fault, Geralt should've known better. Geralt had been so certain that he could talk to Eskel and keep his head about him. Looking back, he shouldn’t be surprised. Geralt had never been very good at regulating his emotions around Eskel, never able to hide them from him. He doesn’t know what made him think he’d be able to now, with everything between them. Geralt had thought it would make him feel better, to finally speak his mind, but he just feels tired and lousy.

“I shouldn't have pushed,” Lambert says again and Geralt shakes his head. It takes him a moment to notice the tension Lambert is carrying in his shoulders, the tightness at his eyes.

“What else happened?”

“What?”

“You're upset about something else.” 

Lambert sighs and mumbles a curse. “He was pretty pissed at me, told me to get out and hasn't been answering my calls again.”

“I'm sorry, pretty sure me yelling at him didn't help you out.”

“Don’t know that it would’ve made a difference if you’d been nice. Mom stopped by there yesterday to check on him and she said he let her in, that he kept apologizing to her like he always does when he sees her now.” Lambert shakes his head a little.

“Apologizing? To Vivienne?” Geralt questions, confused.

“Yeah. He tells her…” Lambert stops and takes a breath as if to brace himself. “He tells her that he’s sorry he’s a terrible son,” he whispers. “Breaks her heart.”

Geralt feels like he’s had his chest ripped open. Eskel was always a bit of a mama’s boy and he was always a little proud of it, too. The knowledge only piles onto Geralt’s guilt about the whole day. He’d invaded Eskel’s space, torn him down, and left him alone, on top of all the other hurts Eskel is carrying with him.

“It was a bad idea anyways. I just thought… well, honestly, I don't know what I thought would happen.” Lambert shakes his head and glances at the time on his phone. “Actually, I need to go over there soon and endure his glaring for a while. He's got an appointment today and I've gotta drive him.”

“He doesn't drive himself?”

“No, he won't. He's gotta work up to getting in a car at all. The accident spiked his anxiety pretty badly.” 

And Geralt had gone over there bringing up the past and shouting about it and then  _ left. _ Geralt is a little dazed as Lambert walks away.

# # # 

_ Eskel’s told Geralt about the anxiety, but he doesn’t  _ see _ it much on a day to day basis. Eskel taps his fingers on everything within reach some days or spends a morning cleaning the entire apartment from top to bottom, but Geralt doesn’t really see it until the first Christmas they spend in their apartment. They’re having guests for dinner on Christmas Eve, friends of Geralt’s that just moved back into town. Guests that Eskel has not met and is inclined to try to impress. Yennefer, who has known Geralt since they were children and is as good as a sister to him, is coming over with her partner, Triss.  _

_ Eskel wakes up at five and starts cleaning. Geralt finds him in the kitchen at eight, on what is apparently his second pass. He’s placing spices back into their cabinet, his hands are shaking as he raises the little bottles. _

_ “Esk?” Geralt tries gently and Eskel startles and whirls around with wide eyes. He knocks half a dozen spices to the floor and bumps the open cabinet door with his shoulder hard enough for it to smack closed. Eskel flinches back and immediately starts stammering apologies as he bends down to start snatching up the containers on the floor. Geralt comes over slowly and bends to pick up the last two bottles on the floor and place them both on the counter. Eskel is breathing in short, sharp bursts and he’s picking at the bottom of his shirt while he rocks restlessly from foot to foot. Geralt reaches out and catches Eskel’s hands, tugs him forward until he wraps his big arms around Geralt’s waist and pushes his face into Geralt’s collar. Geralt holds him close until his breath slows and his shoulders aren’t so tight. _

_ ““I’ll help you finish up what you’re doing here and then I want you to go take a hot shower,” Geralt says and feels Eskel’s nod. “Tonight’s gonna be fine, babe,” Geralt murmurs. “They’re gonna love you.” Geralt nudges Eskel up and presses a kiss to his lips. “ _ I  _ love you.” _

_ Geralt gets another kiss, Eskel’s ‘love you, too’ smeared into his jaw, and a little piece of Eskel that he didn’t have before. Geralt wants them all. The evening is awkward for about five minutes before Yen, ever subtle, breaks the tension by proclaiming, “You can relax, big guy, we already like you.” She proceeds to embarrass Geralt by ranting about how every phone call was ‘Eskel did this’ or ‘Eskel said that.’ Eskel is relaxed by the time they sit down to eat and seeing him laugh and joke with Yen and Triss makes something warm unfurl in Geralt’s chest. _

# # # 

“Eskel, you know I'm not gonna leave! Open the door!” 

Eskel is  _ not  _ opening the door. He does not have the mental fortitude to deal with anyone, much less Lambert, today and so he is not opening the door and he  _ is not _ going to the therapist. Lambert pounds on the door again and the wood vibrates against Eskel's back with each strike where he's sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Come on, man, I know you're still pissed at me but just- Please open the door, Esk. I'm worried about you.”

Eskel sighs, pushes his fingers back through his hair, and really wishes he was better at telling his little brother no. He reaches up, unlocks the bolt and the handle, then gets up and walks off into the living room. When Lambert comes in, Eskel is sitting in his big arm chair with a book open over his lap.

“I know you won't wear shorts to your appointment so you need to go change now, we have to leave in half an hour,” Lambert tells him, his voice careful but still firm. Eskel turns the page. “I'm serious, man. You can be pissed at me but you are going to see your therapist today. You've already rescheduled twice.”

“No.” Eskel mumbles and refocuses on his book. Lambert growls a little as he comes to sit on the end of the ragged couch closest to Eskel.

“Eskel, I'm sorry,” 

Eskel doesn't say anything, doesn't take his eyes off the page in front of him. 

“Eskel, please talk to me. I can't deal with this again, okay? I'm  _ sorry  _ I brought him here and I'm sorry it stressed you out. I'm just trying to-”

Lambert has always been  _ his _ in Eskel's head. His mama brought home a dark haired baby boy wrapped in blue, told Eskel ' _ this is  _ your _ baby brother' _ and Eskel's brain just rewired to make that fit. When Lambert is upset, it’s Eskel’s job to make it better. When he’s hurt or angry or scared, not that he’d ever admit it aloud, Eskel is there to ease him through and steady him. Eskel is not equipped to deal with his own shit right now, but taking care of Lambert is an instinct. He's been doing it practically his entire life, responds to his brother’s distress like a reflex. He closes his book while Lambert rants, getting more upset with each word, and leans over to put his hand on Lambert's shoulder.

“Take a deep breath, little brother,” Eskel tells him. 

When the frantic energy is gone from his eyes, Lambert starts again. “I am sorry that I brought him here without talking to you about it...” 

Eskel nods. 

“I just want-” Lambert huffs, scrubs a hand over his eyes. “I just want you to be okay... or at least,  _ try  _ to be okay, Esk. I've kept my mouth shut about a lot the last few months but... I need you to try to be okay.” The waver in Lambert's voices sends a stab of pain through his heart.

“I'm sorry,” Eskel whispers and gives a helpless little shrug. “I don't know how to do that, Lamb. I don't know if I can.”

“Well, you can start by going to see your therapist. Maybe let me come over and help you actually  _ clean _ this place over the weekend,” Lambert suggests. “One step at a time, yeah?”

Eskel goes to see his therapist.


	4. Your Marlboro Red?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I forgot to specify this in the other chapters but the story title and the chapter titles are from the song _Mine Would Be You_ by _Blake Shelton_ , which I listened to on repeat while I wrote this story. If you've never heard it, it's a wonderful song and I absolutely recommend a listen.

It’s been three weeks since the first time when Geralt shows up on Eskel's doorstep again. Eskel opens the door just far enough to peer through the gap at him, looking wary.

“I'm not here to shout at you again, promise.” 

Eskel doesn't look convinced but he steps back and opens the door a little further.

“You wanna come in?” he grunts and moves back at Geralt's nod. 

Geralt notes how Eskel seems to draw into himself, to make himself small, wherever he settles in a room. He keeps his face carefully angled away from Geralt. Geralt studies the man he'd loved relentlessly for the last several years as they sit down in his living room. The pieces fit together a little more clearly, now that Geralt’s not so worked up. What he saw as callous, was Eskel hiding away his shame; it makes his heart ache, the distinction between the man in front of him and the one in his head,  _ his _ Eskel. His Eskel is laughter and warmth and a quiet strength that most people don’t notice. This Eskel is small and bruised and so fragile but if Geralt really looks he can catch a glimpse of that familiar fortitude. Eskel may not be  _ better _ but he's trying now, that much is clear to Geralt. The house is cleaner than it was, no empties laying around and Eskel's books all organized on their shelves, he's even opened the blinds a little bit to let in the natural light from outside.

“I'm sorry. For just showing up the other day and for stirring up all that shit and yelling and-” Geralt takes a breath. “It wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry.”

“Wasn't really fair to you last year,” Eskel shrugs, “so, don't think I've earned any fairness in return.”

“That's not what that was about. It wasn't- I didn't come here to tear into you.” It's just as jarring as the last time he saw him to see Eskel like this. Eskel was always big and loud and bright in Geralt's mind, the center of any room. People were drawn to him, his personality and his openly friendly smile. Geralt wished he could see it now.

“Why  _ did  _ you come here, then?”

“Because I-” Geralt's never been one for long winded speeches but he's still normally a lot better at conversation than this. “Lambert said I should,” he shrugs, “and then he kept saying I should and I got to thinking about what happened and decided I could do it. I'd be calm and collected and get my answers and wish you well and then... well, you know,  _ that _ happened. Then I got here and you opened the door and I just-”  _ Not yet _ . “I just wanted to know you were okay.”

Eskel's expression turns wry, “Not the answer you were looking for.” They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes until Geralt can't bite his tongue any longer.

“You never told Lambert why.” Eskel shakes his head, tucks his chin a little further into his hood. He knows what Geralt is asking. Eskel shakes his head again and his breathing picks up. “Eskel,” murmured into the space between them, “can you look at me, please?”

“No,” Eskel wheezes and he gets up and paces across the room and down the hall. Geralt buries his face in his hands for a moment, takes a deep breath and goes off after Eskel. He finds him in the kitchen with his back to the doorway and his right hand braced on the counter, white knuckled fingers of his left woven through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you to go,” he grates. 

Geralt almost turns to leave but Eskel bends down and pushes his forehead to the countertop, his back heaving, and Geralt just  _ can’t _ . He makes noise as slowly crosses the room to place a hand on Eskel’s shoulder, ignores the little skip of his heart at the contact.

“Eskel, five things you can see,” he prompts gently. He thinks Eskel will ignore him, at first, but he lifts his head enough to list off five things in his eyeline. Geralt asks him what he can touch and what he can hear before Eskel is breathing somewhat normally again. He retreats from Geralt quickly, turns his right side away with the little kitchen island between them.

“I appreciate your help but I need you to go,” he says.

“I’ll go… I just need to say this before I do,” Geralt agrees. He takes a deep breath and braces himself to say what he needs to say. “I spent weeks going over the last few months before the accident, trying to figure out why, what I’d done. Trying to figure out how one argument ruined us. But it hit me a few nights ago…  _ You’ve  _ always been your biggest enemy, you’re always so hyper-critical of yourself. I wanted to tell you…”

Eskel is trembling but Geralt has to say it now, or Eskel won’t give him another chance. Like rebreaking a bone that’s been set wrong, he has to hurt Eskel with the truth so he can begin to stop believing the lies he’s told himself.

“It would’ve been hard for me to see you in that hospital bed, to have to sit through surgeries and watch you go through rehab and all of it. It would’ve hurt and I would’ve worried constantly about anything that could go wrong. It would’ve been a lot of work to run the shop or take a teaching position and help you get better at the same time, I’m sure it would’ve been exhausting. But I would’ve done it.” Geralt pauses with a little shake of his head. “Every bit of it and I wouldn’t have complained because I would’ve had  _ you,  _ and you could never be a burden.”

Geralt desperately wants Eskel to look at him, just for a moment. He’s missed his eyes, his smile, everything. He was angry for about an hour, when he figured it out; huffing, pacing, wanting to throw things, _ pissed. _ Then he shifted into frustration that Eskel would think so little of him, that Geralt wouldn’t be able to care for him.  _ No. _ That wasn’t what Eskel was thinking, Geralt knows him well enough to admit. Eskel was thinking that he’d drag Geralt down, that Geralt deserved someone whole and beautiful and perfect. Nevermind that Eskel has always, and will always, be all of those things for Geralt. It took him a few days to be okay with it, to be secure in the knowledge that he didn’t let go of Eskel like he thought he had before he confronted Eskel a few weeks ago. It took a few more days for him to admit to himself that he’s still in love with Eskel. Geralt’s not certain he could ever stop loving him. He goes over carefully to stand before Eskel.

“I’ve never wanted you to hide any part of who you are from me. I’ve never turned away from your flaws. I’ve always loved you exactly as you are.” He reaches out to tug Eskel’s hand away from the frayed hem of his hoodie. “Can you look at me, Esk? Please,” he murmurs into the space between them.

Eskel hunkers in on himself, scrubs at the stray tear that races down his cheek, and finally turns to face Geralt head on. His sunstone eyes are watery and tired and immeasurably sorrowful. The scarring starts at his temple and carves jagged lines over his right cheekbone to come to rest at a notch in his lip. Eskel only meet’s Geralt’s eyes for a moment before he’s turning away again with a shuddering breath. He flees the room this time and Geralt hears a door close further into the house. He hunts up paper and a pen before he leaves. He finds Eskel’s current book open, face down, over the arm of the big chair, settles a note in the pages to save Eskel’s place, and balances it title up where it was.

# # #

_ It’s Eskel’s birthday. Geralt is out of town, which Eskel hates, so he has accepted that dinner with his mother and brother is all he is going to get. At least until Geralt gets home tomorrow. Eskel has the day off work and he spends it puttering around the apartment and cleaning the already clean space because he doesn’t like downtime. When he runs out of things to do he meanders back to the living room and the book he left open, face down to save his page, on the coffee table Friday. Only the book isn’t open, it’s sitting title up at the end closest to the window where Eskel likes to sit and read, with a slip of paper sticking out the top. He plucks it open and finds Geralt’s messy penmanship. _

Go into the closet in the hall, top shelf at the back.   
Happy Birthday, I love you.   
-G   
P.S. Use a bookmark, you heathen.

_ Eskel huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. He finds a pristinely wrapped box on the top shelf of the closet and inside, a first edition of his favorite book that absolutely  _ does not _ make him tear up. He takes a moment to wonder, sitting on the couch and gently leafing through his new book, at how Geralt managed to make this moment feel so precious without even being here. The lightness it leaves him with buoys him up all day, his ‘ _ big, dopey grin’ _ \- as Lambert called it -when he tells his family what Geralt got him at dinner makes his face hurt. _

_ He shows his appreciation as soon as Geralt steps through the door the next day. _

# # #

Eskel burrows into his bed, buries himself under every blanket he owns and doesn’t care that he is immediately  _ too hot. _ He stays there until the urge to go down the road to replace the alcohol he let Lambert dump two weeks ago is gone. It takes… a while. His shirt is soaked with sweat, his jacket a little damp, by the time he finally emerges. He squints his way to the dresser for clean clothes and then into the bathroom to shower. He keeps the light off, he bruised his knee a couple times last week as he learned to navigate the little room in the dark. He stays under the spray until the water starts to turn cold. Dressed, he sets to cleaning up the bathroom, starts his laundry, tidies the kitchen, and then makes his way to the living room. Blinds open, he turns to pick up his book and is shocked into stillness. He picks it up like it’s a snake that might bite him, flips it open to his page and plucks the note out. There’s a phone number at the top.

_ What do you say we start over? Friends? _ _   
_ _ -G _ _   
_ _ P.S. Heathen. _

Eskel slips the note carefully back between the pages and he smiles every time he thinks of it.

# # #

Geralt gets a text message halfway through his first staff meeting, the following day. It’s from an unprogrammed number.

_ Yes. _ _   
_ _ I still lose all my bookmarks. _

Geralt grins and saves the number before he drives home. They start exchanging text messages, every couple of days at first, and Geralt starts to feel like he’s talking to  _ his _ Eskel again even though they don’t talk about anything important. The few times he’d spoken to Eskel he felt like the man he’d known was completely gone, replaced with someone far more timid and beaten down than Eskel had ever been. Geralt understands, of course, but he missed their teasing and banter, missed the random comments about whatever book Eskel is currently reading; he’s missed just  _ talking _ to Eskel about absolutely nothing because Eskel had been more than just his lover since the start, Eskel had always been his best friend, too.

Geralt asks Eskel once every couple of days if he needs anything, a ride to the store or just company. He texts every Thursday evening, a simple  _ ‘how are you?’,  _ after Eskel tells him that his appointment with his therapist is on Thursday mornings and can sometimes be difficult to deal with. Almost a month after he gives Eskel his number, he finds a four-legged guest on his front porch when he comes home. No collar in sight, he brings her inside and gets her some water, snaps a picture of her and posts it to a page for local missing animals on social media. Several days later and still no answer, he takes her to a veterinarian. He’s told that she’s a mutt, around two years old, and a little underfed but otherwise healthy. She doesn’t have any kind of chip and the vet hasn’t had anyone report a missing dog. The veterinarian tells Geralt that he can take her to the local shelter if he doesn’t want her but that she doesn’t seem to have an owner.

Geralt snaps a new picture after he gives her a bath and sends it to Eskel with a message attached.

_ I’m keeping her. Meet Roach. _

# # #

_ Their lease is up in a couple months and they’ve decided to buy a house. This brought Eskel to the suggestion of a dog, to which Geralt immediately agreed. The name has been a point of contention. _

_ “Roach?” Eskel asks, somewhere between confused and appalled. “You will absolutely  _ not _ name our first dog after a disgusting pest, Geralt. What is wrong with you?” _

_ “Not the  _ bug _ , the fish,” he clarifies but that apparently doesn’t make it better because Eskel still has his nose scrunched up like he smelled something foul.  _

_ “The fish? That’s still ridiculous, Geralt. No way.”  _

_ “Let’s hear your ideas then,” Geralt retorts and the conversation just devolves to senseless bickering from there.  _

_ But later that night, when they’re on the edge of sleep, Eskel mumbles, “Guess Roach is okay.” _

# # #

His phone rings less than a minute after the message sends, Eskel’s name flashing up at him.

“Hello,” he answers and tries to keep the smirk on his face out of his tone.

_ “You are seriously naming that beautiful dog after that dumbass fish?”  _ Eskel asks without preamble.

“Yes. She likes it. Don’t you, sweet girl?” he coos as Roach shoves over into his lap even though she is certainly too big to be a lap dog.

_ “I’m sure she does,”  _ Eskel says with a little huff of laughter that makes Geralt grin.

“I could bring her over, so you can meet her. If-I mean, just if you want,” Geralt adds quietly. They haven’t spent any more time face to face and Geralt finds himself a little nervous.

_ “Um… yeah. Yeah, that’d be,” _ Eskel pauses,  _ “I’d like that.” _

“I’ve got nothing going on tomorrow.”

_ “Okay, I’ll see you then.” _

“Yeah, be over around one. See you tomorrow, Esk,” Geralt says and can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. 

Roach is pushy about getting the attention she’s due but surprisingly not wild. She doesn’t jump up on him but will walk up and lean against his legs, nudge at his hand restlessly until he pets her. If he’s sitting on the couch she’ll climb up to sit beside him and bump her nose at his temple or head butt his shoulder until he raises his arm for her to flop over his lap. When they get to Eskel’s place Geralt keeps Roach’s leash short as they walk up to the front door, in case she tries to jump. The door opens when they’re a few steps away to reveal Eskel wearing his hoodie and a shy little smile. Geralt feels tension he didn’t know he was holding loosen his shoulders, like a sigh of relief. Roach is a good girl and walks straight up to Eskel, tail wagging wildly, to lean into his legs and nudge his hand onto her head. Geralt watches his grin grow as he pets and murmurs to Roach until he glances at Geralt and rolls his eyes.

“Can’t believe you’re really calling her Roach,” he teases, Roach’s tail moves faster at the sound of her name, and Geralt laughs.

“I told you, she likes it,” he replies as they walk through the house into the living room, Roach hot on both their heels. She pushes and shoves and climbs Eskel once he’s settled in the chair and flops over his legs to fall promptly asleep.

“ _ Oof _ , you let her do this to you?”

“You don’t  _ let  _ that dog do anything, she just  _ does _ it,” Geralt shrugs and Eskel shakes his head.

“She’s sweet, bigger than I thought she’d be from the pictures.”

“She’s smart, too, she’s already picking up on some commands,” says Geralt as Eskel smooths his hand over the soft fur between Roach’s ears. He looks more relaxed than Geralt has seen him so far. Eskel’s always had a soft spot for animals. Geralt and Roach spend the afternoon with Eskel and for a few moments Geralt almost forgets the last year and change. For a few moments, he can pretend all their carefully laid plans came through. When he gets home that night he goes into his room, Roach collapses onto her big pillow at the foot of his bed, and he opens the top drawer of his dresser. He handles the little box almost reverently, he hasn’t looked at them in months. With the memory of Eskel this afternoon, warm sun streaming through the big window in the living room, blinds open wide, hood up but not hiding in it, and a  _ real  _ smile setting his eyes alight, Geralt can’t get them out of his head.

The bands are both wide, black tungsten carbide with a braided pattern of white gold wrapping the center in a thin line, and nearly the same size; nestled innocuously in their little box. Geralt sets it on the dresser before him, open to display them to the room, and steps back to sit on his bed. Roach whines, comes over to sit on her rump between his feet and nudges her head up under his hands, he doesn’t go to sleep for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so amazing and your comments and kudos and subscriptions are my life blood.
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr or discord, under the same name: etcorsolus.


	5. The Best Damn Thing You Lucked In To?

It’s shockingly easy to spend time around Geralt again. It shouldn’t surprise him, really, Geralt had always been that way. The one person that Eskel can just  _ exist  _ with, be wholly himself without any expectations. It’s exactly why he didn’t write Geralt’s name down after the accident. He’d known that if he let Geralt in, if he saw those emerald eyes and the soft smile he saved just for Eskel, he would’ve given in. He couldn’t have sent Geralt away, wouldn’t have been able to resist his easy comfort. Geralt had talked about completing his degree for years, that once he had it he’d sell the bookstore and apply for a position in his field. He talked about buying a house and going on trips and getting a big, goofy dog to come home to. Eskel hadn’t even been sure he’d walk again and he wouldn’t,  _ couldn’t,  _ allow his own mistakes to ruin Geralt’s plans.

Eskel couldn’t let Geralt in, put simply, because Geralt would see right through any excuse Eskel tried to make until he got to the truth. And the truth wouldn’t have made Geralt go.  _ No,  _ Geralt would have talked Eskel right out of all his reasons and gotten himself stuck with Eskel and his mountain of baggage.

Geralt didn’t have to break down Eskel’s walls to see through them and he’s always had an uncanny ability to understand what Eskel needs. The first afternoon leads to several others and before Eskel knows it, it’s been two months and he’s seen Geralt nearly every day for the last couple of weeks. Geralt comes to the house with Roach, or comes to pick him up and coax him into a walk through the park with Roach trotting between them. Sometimes Lambert picks him up and they both go to Geralt’s house to spend a few hours arguing over card games like they used to.

Geralt pulls into his driveway on a Friday afternoon, almost two months have flown by since their first sunlit afternoon with Roach. They’re going to Geralt’s house and Lambert is showing up later. He drops into the passenger seat to Geralt grinning, wide and delighted, at him. 

“What?” Eskel asks warily. Geralt shakes his head and waits for Eskel to buckle in. “Seriously, you’re grinning like a loon and it’s creeping me out.”

“Just- it’s good to see you, is all.”

“Do you believe your _ self _ when you lie, or…?”

“Fine,” Geralt sighs, “just don’t get upset.” Eskel’s brows knit together as Geralt soldiers on. “You got right in the car,” he says softly, “and you don’t have your hoodie. It’s just… it makes me happy to see you on a really good day.” 

It brings Eskel up a little short, because he hadn’t even noticed, had just been eager to see Geralt. What’s more is that he doesn’t even feel the need to go back for his hoodie now that it’s been pointed out. He’s in a long sleeve shirt, his softest jeans now that he can stand them against his skin, and he’s… comfortable. Happy.  _ Huh. _

“Me too,” he murmurs and Geralt’s smile turns tender. He reaches out and brushes his fingertips, feather light, down Eskel’s jaw. Eskel feels the ghost of it until he falls asleep that night; he dreams of lazy monday mornings and sleepy emerald eyes.

# # #

His phone rings, shrill and demanding, at two in the morning. His hands are trembling a little as picks it up and squints to read…  _ Eskel. _ He sits up and swipes to answer all in one motion.

“Eskel? Are you alright?”

“Geralt, I-I’m, I’m sorry it’s so- so late, I just-” Eskel's voice is wavering and thin and Geralt can hear his panicked breathing.

“It’s okay, Esk, do you need me to come over there?”

“No, no, I can’t- I can’t ask for- you-”

“You didn’t ask, I offered. I’ll be there shortly. Now, five things, Eskel,” he prompts, voice steady and soothing. He drives faster than he should so he’s pulling into Eskel’s driveway before they make it to one. Eskel meets him at the door with red-ringed eyes. When the door clicks shut behind him he opens his arms, palms spread, an offer. Eskel melts against him, presses his face into Geralt’s neck and wraps his arms around Geralt’s waist. It is so much better than Geralt thought it could be to have Eskel in his arms again. They wind up on the couch with Eskel’s head resting in Geralt’s lap so he can run fingers through his dark hair. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles after a while.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I’m glad you called me,” replies Geralt. “It’s always okay for you to call me.” Eskel is quiet and he’s facing away from Geralt so he can’t read his expression properly. “Can you tell me?”

“Nightmare,” mumbled after a few moments of silence, “the accident.” Eskel shudders a little, burrows closer to Geralt. “Never actually told you what happened, did I?”

“No, the doctor’s told us what they knew but after that…” he trails off.

“After that I wouldn’t let you in,” Eskel’s whispers. “I left the apartment, got half-way to Lambert’s place and stopped at a light, waiting to turn left. I started forward when my light changed, a guy coming the other direction ran the red light, didn’t even see him coming,” Eskel takes a shaking breath. “Pinned the bike between his truck and the old corolla behind me…” 

“You don’t have to keep going,” Geralt whispers when he feels the trembling start. He knows the rest. Eskel had been thrown into the vehicle behind him, his helmet visor broken. He’d suffered a few fractured vertebrae and broken bones in his right leg on top of wounds up and down his side. The vertebrae caused the pinched nerve, the start of nerve damage and Eskel’s pain. For a few moments, the only sound is their breathing, Geralt’s fingers still slipping through Eskel’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Geralt,” Eskel breathes, so soft Geralt almost misses it.

“I told you, you don’t have to be sorry for this,” Geralt reminds him gently but Eskel is shaking his head before he finishes.

“Not this…” Eskel breathes in deep and slow, a little shaky. “You deserved better,” he mumbles,    
“and I was too…  _ weak  _ to give it to you.”

“Eskel, you’re not-”

“I was. I didn’t want to burden you… Didn’t want to derail your life, and I knew you’d stay. I knew you’d put your career on hold, even though you finally had your degree. I couldn’t let you throw your life away just because I’m broken. I should’ve been man enough to look you in the eye and tell you but I… I knew as soon as I saw you, I’d cave,” Eskel says quietly, Geralt can hear the tears in his voice. “You deserve so much better than me, Geralt.”

It breaks Geralt’s heart, the thought of his big-hearted man laying in a hospital bed, traumatized and self loathing; hating himself enough to push away someone he loved, who loved him, because he was scared of poisoning Geralt’s life. Geralt may come to regret showing Eskel so much of his heart again so soon, but he can’t stop the words falling from his lips. “There wasn’t anyone better for me than  _ you. _ ”

Eskel squeezes his eyes shut, pushes a few tears loose, and turns his face further away from Geralt to hide. As loath as he is to leave his position, he shifts to nudge Eskel out of his lap. Eskel doesn’t sit up, just stays in his little defensive curl and turns into the couch cushions. Geralt kneels on the floor in front of him, pushes his fingers through Eskel’s hair and coaxes him to meet Geralt’s eyes. He traces his thumb under Eskel’s left eye, brushes away the moisture there.

“The truth is… I forgave you a while ago. I was hurt, at first, and then I was angry for a little bit but… After that I just missed you,” Geralt whispers. “And I realized I could never love someone the way I love you, Eskel.” He savors the shocked little gasp it pulls from Eskel. 

“But you- you can’t still-”

“You foolish, stubborn man,” Geralt shakes his head fondly, his own eyes wet, “don’t you remember? I said  _ always _ .”

# # #

_ Their first real fight happens a year into their relationship and is a culmination of things. They’ve had their spats of course, little arguments that ended with mumbled apologies and a compromise, but their first big fight throws Eskel for a loop. _

_ It really starts in the morning, Eskel wakes up feeling twitchy and anxious and irritable. The bike is running like shit on his way to the garage and he almost lays it down when the engine stutters on a turn. By the time he makes it to work, his mood has soured even further, and spending the day dealing with his snootiest customers, the ones that look at him like he’s an imbecile, does not help to improve it. He has to message Geralt to tell him not to come over as early as he’d planned because Eskel has to stay late to work on the motorcycle. It takes him two hours to figure out that he has to order the part he needs and he resigns himself to a rough ride home to round out his day. He calls Geralt before he leaves the garage to tell him he’s heading home and Geralt can meet him there. _

_ Geralt has seen Eskel on his bike, has even ridden it a few times despite his misgivings about it, but he has never seen Eskel come close to wrecking it. Eskel is turning into the parking lot of his complex, catches sight of Geralt lumbering up out of his car, and then loses the bike. The engine stuttered on the down shift, jumped out of gear, and Eskel lays her down in the parking lot. He takes stock when he gets his bearings and finds he’s mostly okay. He’ll feel like he went three rounds with a champion boxer in the morning, he’ll have some bruising and a little road rash on his hip where his jacket rode up, but he’s definitely had worse. _

_ Geralt panics, Eskel is sure it looked pretty bad so he tries to calm Geralt down. His reassurances come out a little clipped because he’s tired and frustrated, and now he’s sore, and it tips Geralt’s panic over into anger.  _

_ “You have to get rid of that goddamn thing before you get killed on it! And for what, a stupid thrill?” Geralt says, they’ve made it upstairs by now and Geralt has been ranting the whole way and Eskel finally snaps. _

_ “I’m sorry, I  _ have _ to? What are you, my mother? What makes you think you have any right to tell me what to do with it?” he growls.  _

_ They’re shouting within minutes, saying anything to hurt each other’s feelings until Geralt barks, “Fine, do whatever you fucking want. I don’t care,” and storms out.  _

_ Eskel’s ears are ringing in the silence after the door slams behind Geralt. His heart is racing and he’s breathing too fast and then, all at once it hits him that  _ this is it. _ He’s just shoved Geralt right out of his life because he had a shitty day and Geralt jabbed at the one thing Eskel has purely for himself. Eskel doesn’t sleep much that night, sits on the verge of an anxiety attack for hours as the moon traces a path through the night sky. He finally nods off somewhere around dawn, curled up as much as he can be on his couch. He’s awoken a few hours later by a knock on his door. He’s shocked into stillness to find Geralt, looking sheepish and picking at his nail beds. _

_ “Can we talk?” Geralt asks and at Eskel’s nod, they go to sit down side by side on the sofa. Eskel braces himself for what Geralt will say, but Geralt surprises him again. “I’m sorry about how I reacted yesterday.” _

_ “What?” Eskel is beyond confused. _

_ “I overreacted… The bike already made me nervous and then watching that, I just panicked,” Geralt shakes his head. “I won’t sit here and say that I’ll ever be totally okay with it but… It’s not my place to tell you what to do. And I shouldn’t have jumped to ‘pissed off’ so quickly, I knew you were having a rough day and I should’ve been more considerate of that.” _

_ Eskel’s previous relationships have not prepared him for this, and he’s achy and tired and desperately wants a shower, so he can be forgiven for blurting out the following question. “You aren’t breaking up with me?” _

_ Geralt’s eyes bug out a little and he slides in closer to Eskel’s side, clasps their hands together. “ _ No _ , Eskel. You thought I’d leave you because we had a fight?” _

_ Eskel shrugs. “Well… yeah, kind of.” _

_ “Oh, babe, no. We can’t agree on  _ everything,  _ and that’s okay. I’m not just gonna walk away from you for it. I-” Geralt pauses, drops his eyes to their joined hands, and finishes softly, “I love you.” _

_ Eskel is stunned to silence, lips parted on a little sigh of breath. “You- really?” _

_ Geralt’s smile turns tender. “Always.” _

# # #

Eskel is exhausted after the emotion of the night and Geralt’s confession and he doesn’t know what to say, can’t find his words. Geralt doesn’t say anything more, just leans in and presses his lips to Eskel’s forehead. Eskel closes his eyes and leans into it, draws a shaking breath.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Geralt murmurs. He steps back at Eskel’s answering nod and helps Eskel to his feet, his lumpy couch does not do his bad back any favors, and he winds up staggering into Geralt as he stands. Geralt steadies him carefully and walks with him back to his bedroom where he stops at the door. “I’ll let you get some rest, just call me if you need anything.”

As Geralt turns to leave, a bolt of panic shoots through Eskel and he blurts, “Wait!” 

Geralt turns back to him looking concerned and Eskel drops his eyes to his hands, picks at the hem of his shirt. 

“I, uh, I don’t- don’t want to- I mean,” Eskel stops and pulls in a deep breath to steady himself, but he still can’t raise the volume of his voice above a timid whisper. “Stay? I don’t want to be alone…”

When Eskel risks a glance up at Geralt, he’s giving Eskel that tender smile that makes his heart ache in his chest. Geralt nods, steps out of his shoes and nudges them over against a wall, and comes around to the other side of the bed. He waits for Eskel to shift back and begin to lay down and then climbs in behind him. Eskel settles on his right side, Geralt on his left, so they’re facing each other. Geralt doesn’t move in closer, but he pushes a hand into the space between them and lets Eskel tangle their fingers together. Having Geralt so close and his exhaustion threaten to pull him under immediately and he fights it until Geralt squeezes his captive hand.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Eskel sighs, relaxes just a little further into the sheets, and lets himself drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some angst with your fluff and for the love of god, someone come here and yell at me to write. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, darlings!


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